Now We Hunt
by onlymystory
Summary: When Chris and Derek decide the humans of the pack need weapons and self-defense training, it doesn't take long for Stiles to prove he's no beginner. The only problem is that he stopped being a hunter a while ago, and he's not sure he wants to return, even for his pack. Or a canon-divergent fic with hunter!Stiles, none of our favorites dead, and lots of pack feels.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note: So a while back I posted a little hunter!Stiles drabble that I didn't plan on doing anything with. But…**

**See, I'm a massive fan of KouriArashi's series "The Sum of Our Parts" and I really like the way she's essentially created an entirely different story, with most of the same characters and relationships we all know and love. And I've got a few other canon-divergent type stories I want to do as well, but that I think fit better in a series, rather than random one-shots. That said, my series is definitely different than TSoOP. For one it kickstarts later in canon, I'm pretty sure I like Jackson a lot more, and well you'll see. The point is that it was a combination of that series and a few lingering ideas that made me start this series.**

**That said, here are the couple of things I think are worth knowing. This is canon-compliant up through S2 with a few exceptions. Gerard is dead. Not coming back, not in a nursing home, just dead. Boyd & Erica didn't run away. The other main thing is that my personal headcanon for Peter is that while he may have always been capable of darker decisions (just as I believe Stiles is), it was the fire that made him psycho. The show theory that he was out to fuck over Derek and the Hale pack from the beginning just doesn't make sense to me. Anyway, so now that he's back from the dead and his revenge is done, he's not safe by any means, but he's also not a threat to the pack. So don't hold your breath for a Peter betrayal.**

**I think that's it. Hope you like it!**

* * *

To say things change is an understatement. After the giant showdown at the warehouse, it takes several weeks for any sort of truce to be reached, not that Stiles really expects any better. There were a lot of people hurt and no matter how much choices are understood in theory, the reality doesn't mean everyone can forgive and forget right away.

Boyd and Erica are more trusting of Chris than Allison, even though Allison is trying to make amends. Allison finally yelled at Isaac to say something on one of the last days of school, only for him to call her a bitch and then ask for a ride home. Stiles isn't trying to understand that one at all.

Scott and Derek are...well, they're trying. Stiles can't help but be pissed at Scott on Derek's behalf, and he's a little angry that Derek won't admit how much being betrayed and used like that hurt him. Initially Scott had pushed his argument about not having a choice, but he came around and realized he was wrong after Stiles ignored his calls for a week and his mother lectured him about robbing others of their agency. Now Derek and Scott are tentatively trying to start over. The past doesn't make it easy though.

Lydia and Jackson end up spending a ridiculous amount of time at Stiles' house.

He's getting past the whole Lydia will never really be interested in him like that thing, though the walking Nicholas Sparks cliche could quit making out on his couch.

Even so, Stiles likes having them around. Jackson won't go near Derek, an issue Stiles has no intention of dealing with, but his perpetual need to be the best means he's actually listening to Stiles' advice on werewolvlihood.

He and Lydia have been diving into research far beyond the Beastiary and what they can get from Peter, knowing that more will be coming, and wanting to be prepared.

As the weeks pass, Derek holds training meetings and Scott keeps having board game nights at his house (Apples to Apples has been forever banned after the coffee table incident), and Stiles feels like he's starting to see a pack come together.

Which of course explains why that's when everything goes to hell.

Chris and Derek have decided that the humans, well Lydia and Stiles since Allison was already doing hunter work, needed to start training with traditional weapons so they weren't liabilities in a fight. Chris is teaching them how to use a rifle today.

Correction. Chris is teaching Lydia. He thought he was teaching Stiles. Allison is practicing. But then, no one actually knows that Stiles has done this before. With good reason. He hasn't actually given any interest in carrying a weapon beyond his bat.

Stiles sighs. "I'm doing this under protest." But he picks up the rifle and looks out at the targets. Ten of them for himself, Lydia, and Allison.

Lydia had hit four of her targets and she was currently scribbling formulas on a piece of paper. Stiles assumes it was to help her understand trajectories and turn shooting into a mathematical problem. Which was fine and all for target practice but it wouldn't help her in an actual life or death scenario.

Allison hits eight of her targets, missing one nearly hidden in brush and the farthest one out. She seemed pissed about only getting the bullseye on two, even though Stiles wants to point out that a bullet in a body still takes the target out, even if it isn't an immediate kill. Allison's bullet to the dummy's ribs is still effective.

He thinks about telling her that really, the heart isn't the best place to aim anyway. But they'll probably get that anyway.

The cold metal in his hands feels good. Too good. There are reasons that Stiles doesn't carry a gun, that he chooses to use a bat and his wits to protect him when fighting with the pack.

This feeling of power, the knowledge that he has a small amount of control over life makes him feel like Death. It's heady and he gives a little whine of contentment as the gun settled into his hands.

The others laugh and tell him he'll probably hit at least one target. Well, it's good they think the noise was protesting.

From the corner of his eye, Peter gives him a sharp look, and Stiles knows that Peter understands the truth.

Chris is talking. Stiles makes a concerted effort to tune into instructions on how to use the gun and the best way to aim. He nods where he's supposed to and eventually Chris stops and indicates that Stiles can go ahead.

Stiles raises the rifle and sights his first target. He does a slow sweep, picking out each one, memorizing the location and the angle he needs to hit it.

"Want us to move 'em closer for ya, Stilinski?" laughs Jackson. Okay, so they aren't great friends yet. Stiles would be concerned if Jackson's personality completely changed.

"Just pick one that seems easiest," says Chris, from Stiles' left, a few feet behind him. "Nothing wrong with missing your first time out. This is just an exercise to see which areas need more focus."

"Placement test," mutters Stiles and he can sense the smiles.

"Exactly."

Stiles closes his eyes and breathes, decides his order, opens his eyes and fires into the second closest bottle. He hits it at the greatest pressure point, causing it to shatter instead of merely break.

It's a smooth, effortless movement to adjust his aim and fire again, a split second later at the next target. A minute passes and then he's lowering the gun and closing his eyes. "Someone take it please," he says quietly.

Peter has the gun before the others can understand what Stiles is asking, brusquely unloading it, flipping on the safety, and placing it back on the weapons table.

Stiles waits a little bit longer before opening his eyes and turning to the pack. To say they're shocked might be an understatement. Derek and Chris are both wide-eyed, as is Scott. Jackson looks jealous, Lydia looks like he's a new puzzle to solve. Actually, Allison looks a bit jealous too and Stiles supposes that makes sense. Everyone thinks of Jackson as the competitive member of the pack but Allison and Erica can rival him any day of the week.

He's kind of glad the beta trio are patrolling right now. There's enough people staring already. The only comfort is Peter, who seems to be understanding something. It should be frightening, being on common ground with Peter, but Stiles has been there for a long time and Peter is actually the only one there who's old enough to remember more details than he should.

He'll have to talk to Peter later.

There's silence as Jackson and Scott bring back the targets that had bullseyes on them, checking to see how well he did. Stiles doesn't look at any of them.

He breathes, even and deep, calming himself, reminding himself where he is, and more importantly where he isn't. He's settled by the time the boys return.

Chris looks sharply at Stiles when he sees the dummy, though Allison crows a little. She was only looking at the painted on target, not the full dummy.

"I knew you couldn't be perfect. You still missed one!"

"Allison!" snaps Chris, causing her to quiet down. He turns to Stiles. "That's a kill shot, Stiles."

The bullet hole is straight through the face, just to the side of the dummy's nose and at the corner of the right eye..

"Isn't a kill shot in the forehead?" asks Jackson, genuinely curious and confused at Chris' wary tone.

"Any shot in the head is almost guaranteed to kill the person," agrees Chris. "But they'll still have anywhere from a few seconds to minutes to know what's going on. Unless you shoot the brain stem."

"Well obviously Stiles doesn't know that," says Scott, glaring at Chris.

Chris glares back. "Really? Then maybe Stiles can tell me how he managed to completely miss the target, over the heart. Did you know to aim for the nose, Stiles?"

Stiles shakes his head, but speaks before anyone can be indignant on his behalf. "Bones in the front of the skull are hard to penetrate without a specific type of bullet. Aiming for the nose still creates a margin of error. The eye-sockets are the best choice because they don't create the same level of resistance."

"Why didn't you tell us you could shoot?" asks Derek.

"Because I don't like to," answers Stiles honestly. "And it hasn't been necessary yet."

Lydia studies him. "So you would if we needed you? Really needed you not just if it made the fight easier?"

"Yes. You're still my pack. If it came to it, I'd protect you any way I know how."

That seems to release the tension in everyone. Derek and Chris call an end to training, saying they need to reevaluate the best way to go forward, now that they know Stiles doesn't need beginner instruction.

Even Lydia is a bit above a beginner.

"You would have made a good hunter," says Chris quietly, as he loads the last case into his SUV.

"I was a great hunter," answers Stiles and walks away.

"Dad," says Stiles as he walks into the house. "We need to talk."

"Is this a I'm into guys and girls conversation, a so about the werewolf pack I'm in conversation, or just the fact that you still won't let me have bacon?" John Stilinski's voice carries from the kitchen, so Stiles makes his way in there.

There's what looks like fairly fresh coffee in the pot and leftover muffins from the station, so Stiles helps himself before sitting down. "I fired a gun today," he begins without preamble.

John's head snaps up and he sets his own mug down very deliberately. "I thought you weren't interested in that anymore."

"I'm not." Stiles hesitates. "Or…"

"Things change?" offers John.

He nods. "I've been trying to help in other ways. Research, being a good friend, mediating. Derek and Chris wanted Lydia and I to train in other weapons, trying to keep us safe and all. I couldn't fake that, it's just not in me." His dad doesn't say anything, but his eyes reflect his understanding. "Anyway," continues Stiles, "I think the pack may need me to be more than just Stiles, resident Google expert and best friend."

"Is there something in particular that makes you say that? Because you know you could focus solely on your spark from my side of the family. You don't have to be a hunter again."

"I think I'm going to be Derek's emissary," says Stiles carefully. "But there was a symbol painted on Derek's door the other day. It's why he talked to Chris about training us human members of the pack and I have the feeling it means the Argent name won't be enough."

John sips at his coffee and frowns at the now cold drink. Stiles take the opportunity to shove half a muffin in his mouth. "Symbol?"

"Deucalion," answers Stiles.

"I thought you trained at the warehouse."

"We do."

"So you and Derek?"

"Are you asking as the Sheriff or as my dad?"

John sighs, then gets up to heat his coffee. Stiles waits and finishes his food. Once John returns to the table, his gaze is steady on Stiles. "I'm asking as your father."

Stiles nods.

"And you're being safe? This is your choice? You aren't being pressured into anything?"

"It's um, pretty new, not really at a being safe point so far," allows Stiles, blushing slightly. He's pretty sure it doesn't matter how old you are, talking relationships with your parents is always supposed to be a little awkward. "But definitely my choice. And his. I wouldn't want to push Derek into anything either."

"Does he know that it's Deucalion's symbol?"

"Peter told him." Stiles knows exactly what's coming, maybe even more than Peter and Chris. Deucalion and his crew of alphas and legendary emissary Jennifer Blake are, to put it mildly, the biggest pains in the ass in the supernatural world. Enforcers of procedure, they're no doubt coming to Beacon Hills because hunter wars, resurrections, and kanimas don't exactly keep their world a secret.

But Deucalion's crew are more like the bullies in a Hollywood version of high school. They'd rather see a werewolf pack fail than prove themselves, and they spend quite a bit of time insuring that happens. Part of it stems from territorial takeovers, but most of it is just about being assholes. Deucalion has Kali in his pack however, and the female werewolf has the sort of connections that keep them in charge. Essentially.

If the Alphas are coming to Beacon Hills, Stiles' secret can't stay that way any longer.

"So what are you going to do?" asks John, interrupting Stiles' thought process.

Stiles makes a frustrated noise. "Call a pack meeting. Tell them about Mom. About the Alphas. And about where we go from here."

"Everything about Claudia?"

"No." Stiles is firm, despite what looks like surprise in his dad's eyes. "I think I'll keep this at a need to know only level."

"Okay. You know I support you either way right?"

Stiles nods. "Thanks Dad. Any chance I can convince you to go get some sodas from the store while I make a few calls? I have the feeling it's going to be a long night."

Once the conversation with his dad was over, Stiles headed up to his room to process and figure out exactly how he was going to handle the pack.

The thing was, he hadn't been lying when he told Chris he was a great hunter. Stiles had been trained as soon as he was old enough to understand that knives were sharp. His mother came from a long line of hunters, with a lineage far superior to the Argent name. Whereas Allison's parents kept the supernatural world secret, Claudia had always been upfront about it. So much so that it had been difficult for Stiles to act like he'd researched this sort of thing, rather than blurting out his knowledge.

He'd been trained in various weaponry, focusing on a sniper rifle once he reached the age of 9.

THe problem really wasn't that Stiles didn't like his heritage. He took a great deal of pride in it actually. But when his mother got sick, he hadn't reacted well, becoming obsessed with hunting.

Looking back, Stiles could tell his saving grace was the far stricter code his family held, one that had so many checks and balances it was nearly impossible to injure an innocent life.

Still, it was the way he nearly went into a trance with his gun that had finally snapped John Stilinski out of his grief. Together they began to heal and until today, Stiles hadn't touched a gun in nearly two years.

But just as Derek was learning, no one gets to walk away from destiny. And Stiles has always known his.

"Stiles?" Derek knocks at the door to his bedroom and the sound reminds Stiles that there's a whole other secret in his life that is likely to come out sooner than later. At least knowing his luck.

BUt he automatically feels more at ease in Derek's presence, so he motions for him to come in. "Dad let you in?"

Derek nods. "He said something about the store and that you probably wanted to talk before everyone else got here."

"He's right," says Stiles.

Derek sits on the bed next to him, his hand curling protectively around Stiles' knee as Stiles shuffles closer.

"Is this about earlier?" asks Derek.

Stiles sighs, nods his head, and tells Derek about his mom.

When he's done, Derek simply leans his head against Stiles' shoulder. It didn't take him long to learn that when Stiles was upset, he needed to comfort more than be comforted. "She sounds amazing," says Derek. "I wonder if my mother knew her."

"I think they must have. Two women with that sort of strength and honor couldn't possibly have lived in the same town without being friends." Stiles' rests his head against Derek's as he speaks.

He's not sure what he would have done without Derek these last few months. It's been Derek who makes Stiles feel like he isn't drowning anymore.

"Are you telling the pack about your mom? They need to know."

"I know," agrees Stiles. "That's why I called the meeting."

"What about us?" There's a hesitancy in Derek's voice, one that Stiles isn't quite sure how to read. Still, he knows how he feels, and honesty has been the foundation between the two of them for far too long for him to change now.

"I think I'd like to keep us a secret," he says, hurrying on to make sure Derek understands. "Not that I want you to be a secret. It's just that I like this, what we have now. I like being able to go to you and be with you and not have everyone else's input. You feel safe to me, and part of me is afraid I'd lose that if everyone knew. Is that okay?"

"Will you be okay if I say for now but not forever?"

"Absolutely." Stiles squeezes Derek's hand in promise.

They sit quietly for a few more minutes until the sounds of people entering the house interrupt the peace. Stiles sighs and stands up. "Here goes nothing."


	2. Chapter 2

"So you're a hunter? Or an emissary?" Isaac voices what Stiles guesses is the question on everyone's lips.

The reveal was easier than he expected. Pack meetings aren't out of the ordinary, so no one was too on edge. His dad eased the way as well, beginning the meeting by explaining that as others in the room knew, parents make certain choices in how they raise their kids, and that he and Claudia had raised Stiles in a way that ceased with her death. John's words helped keep everyone immediately overreacting when Stiles said he was raised as a hunter, but has an emissary's spark from his dad's side of the family. Still, now that Stiles has fully shared his background, he knows there are a lot of questions.

"Neither at the moment," says Stiles in answer to Isaac's question. "I was a hunter, I have the potential to be an emissary. But I haven't been active in one lifestyle and I haven't started training in the other."

"But you were a hunter like me?" asks Allison.

Stiles shakes his head. "First, I'd be more on par with your father's skill level." He says it not out of cockiness but honesty. Allison's only recently started training as a huntress, so it makes sense that he was better. "Second, we were never hunters like the Argent family."

"You didn't go after werewolves?"

Chris sighs. "He means they didn't go after innocent werewolves."

Allison looks appropriately abashed and there are a few low growls from others in the room. Pack is one thing, friendships are still struggling.

"Well both," corrects John. "We had very strict checks in place to prevent the killing of innocents, but Claudia's family didn't hunt werewolves, hence Stiles' continued desire to learn about the pack."

"What did you hunt then?" asks Boyd. He and Erica are sitting on the other side of the room, still uncomfortable too close to Allison, but they've been paying close attention.

"Demons."

That gets a reaction, questions and assumptions being thrown out and tossing the room into a confused turmoil until there's a knock at the front door.

John goes to answer it while Stiles tries to answer questions and a moment later, returns to the room with Peter. Peter goes directly to Derek and shows him a picture on the phone. Derek snarls and snaps in full alpha tone, "Enough. We have a bigger problem. Everyone sit."

Chris looks like he wants to argue but when he notices that Allison is pack enough to obey, he subsides.

"Is it?" asks Stiles.

Derek nods. "Symbol on the train station."

"Symbol?" interrupts Scott.

"Deucalion. He's here with the Alpha pack."

"An Alpha pack?"

"They're essentially enforcers of werewolf pack protocol," explains Derek. "The problems we've had lately are cause for concern. Beacon Hills is home to a lot of natural, magical energy, and it takes a strong pack to keep things calm."

Peter jumps in. "Obviously there have been circumstances beyond our control," he glares at the Argents. Allison and Chris make identical faces at him. They're trying and Peter likes to rub their noses in the actions of Kate and Gerard far more often than necessary. Stiles and Derek both sigh in exasperation. Peter continues. "But they'd be likely to come anyway."

"So what do we do?" asks Isaac.

"We come up with a plan for one." Derek takes back the reins of the conversation from Peter. "There are challenges and appropriate behaviors to follow and while we've been studying some of that, there are more specifics you'll need to learn. I thought we'd have more time to get this far. But…"

"But Deucalion has a reputation," puts in Chris. "He's notorious for deliberately trying to break packs apart. It's how his alphas join him or take over more territory."

John clears his throat and the others turn to look at him. "I know you all have issues with each other. Even those who are family or have years of a relationship between each other are struggling. This Alpha pack does not mean you're expected to forgive and forget the wrongs against you. It will take time to heal from those things. But you should know that Deucalion will prey on those weaknesses. You all need to decide for yourselves if it's worth putting aside your issues to deal with this, or if you'd rather back out now and leave to search for another pack or return to a human lifestyle."

There's quiet for a few minutes as everyone ponders his words. Then Erica stands up from her seat next to Boyd and walks over to sit on the arm of Allison's chair. "Better the devil we know," she says with a dangerous grin.

Everyone else falls in shortly after, and slowly they formulate a plan.

Stiles fidgets through the kitchen as everyone leaves, cleaning the counters multiple times, rearranging the few leftovers in the fridge, and generally making what his father calls a nuisance of himself.

After a good twenty minutes of reorganizing the coffee mugs, his father tosses a duffle bag on the counter. "Here. Overnight clothes, toothbrush, and your laptop."

Stiles looks up confused. "What's this for?"

"You're stressed and your coping mechanisms are unlikely to allow me any sleep," answers John. "Besides, I'm not blind to the fact that you haven't been sleeping at home on nights when you're upset for a while now. I'd assumed it was Scott, but I have the feeling that's not quite accurate." He inclines his head towards Derek, in case his words weren't clear.

"And you're okay with me staying at Derek's?" It's not that Stiles wants his dad to change his mind, but it doesn't seem surprising in light of today's revelations.

John sighs. "What I would like is for my son to be a 17 year old in a town where the most he has to worry about is who you'll take to prom or whether a part-time job can pay for gas and a new video game. But we don't live in a normal town, and the Hale family has nothing to do with how your mother and I chose to raise you. I know things have been wearing on you and I haven't been able to help."

"Dad…" protests Stiles.

John waves his hand dismissively. "That's not...look, kid, there were times when my parents weren't what I needed, your mother was. I'm not trying to create undue pressure or anything, but right now, Derek seems to be that person for you. I don't want details, and I expect you to be safe, whatever safe entails depending on the situation, but if Derek's where you find comfort right now, I won't take that away."

Stiles lunges over to hug his dad, noticing the way Derek looks both surprised and vulnerable at the kind words and the display of trust from John. "Thanks Dad."

"Yeah, yeah. Now go so you can't complain about me eating those leftover egg rolls." John hugs back and offers a smile at Derek, sensing that he isn't quite ready for a hug of his own. Not that John isn't opposed to giving them.

Stiles thinks about talking with Derek at his loft-moved into earlier in the summer-but by the time they get there, both are so exhausted that they just fall into bed. Stiles sprawls out as he always does and Derek tucks himself against Stiles' side, kisses his temple, and falls asleep with his head on Stiles' chest.

It takes Stiles a little longer to fall asleep as usual, his brain always awake even when his body is tired. He reflects for a moment on how he and Derek got here. It's funny he thinks. They're in a relationship. He knows this, he knows Derek wants to be here too, even if they haven't had a define the relationship talk. And yet they haven't even kissed yet, despite sleeping together most nights. Stiles certainly isn't to anything physical. If he's being honest, Derek's been in heavy rotation in his fantasies pretty much since the day the met in the woods. But Derek hasn't really initiated anything further-for reasons Stiles can guess at but isn't sure-and for now, Stiles finds that this closeness and ability to depend on each other is enough.

He falls asleep a few minutes later, one arm wrapped around Derek, his cheek pressed against Derek's hair.

They're woken in the morning by a banging on the loft door and the sound of Lydia's less than dulcet tones yelling Stiles' name.

"Stiles Stilinski, I know you're there. Get up! We're going to breakfast."

Stiles groans and rubs his eyes. "Why is she here? How?"

Derek kicks him. "It's Lydia. Shut up, I'm trying to sleep."

He flails his way out from under the blankets, jumps a little at the cold floor-even in summer, the concrete doesn't retain much warmth-and walks over to the door. "Lydia," says Stiles. "How did you…"

"Oh please," says Lydia, cutting him off. "I knew you and Derek were together about a week after it happened. I just didn't say anything until you were ready." She holds up a hand when he starts to speak. "I'm aware you aren't ready to tell everyone else yet. But I need some time with you and I was tired of feigning ignorance." She pushes her way past him into the loft.

Stiles squawks. "Hey! We might be indecent in here."

Lydia raises an eyebrow-very much like Derek, weird-at him. "You're wearing your fish pajama pants. Those are your comfort pjs."

Stiles gapes at her.

"Scott overshares."

Stiles can't help but nod at that and he hears Derek give the most sarcastic grunt ever from the bed.

"Anyway," she continues. "If you two were having sex, you wouldn't be able to shut up about it. You're a bit of a nympho, really, so I think it's safe to assume the two of you are still feeling things out. Can we go now?"

Stiles thinks about arguing, even goes so far as to open his mouth and thinks better of it. He won't win. So he turns to go get dressed.

Lydia moves around in the kitchen while he's getting ready, then walks over with a mug that she hands to Derek as Stiles shoves his wallet in his pocket. "What's that?" he asks.

"Coffee," answers Lydia as Derek takes it. "Three tablespoons of cream and two sugar cubes, right?"

Derek nods and sips, his coherency not much better than it was ten minutes ago.

"How did you know that?" asks Stiles.

"Isaac. He says Ms. McCall and Derek are exactly the same in the morning."

"Totally out of it until they get coffee," agrees Stiles.

"Thanks," says Derek.

Lydia nods briskly. "Of course. Stiles?"

He leans over to get a hug from Derek, whispers goodbye, and follows Lydia out the door.

Lydia doesn't talk much on the way to the diner, at least, no more than a few slightly cruder than Stiles expected questions about his and Derek's relationship, despite her earlier assertion that she didn't think they were yet having sex. She seems more disappointed that she can't get the dirt first than all that concerned about the relationship itself. Stiles can't say he expects any less.

When they reach the diner, the owner, Esther greets them with a smile. The pack has made the diner a habit over the last few months. They eat like wolves-even the fully human members-but they tip well and make an effort to be courteous. As a result, the staff loves them.

"So why the early morning wake up call, Lyds?" asks Stiles once they've ordered.

French toast and extra crispy bacon for her; fried eggs, hashbrowns, and pancakes for him.

"Because you're going to help me figure out what I am," states Lydia as she evenly shakes powdered sugar over her toast.

Stiles gapes at her, a piece of pancake falling out of his mouth. Lydia taps the bottom of his jaw. "Swallow, then questions."

He obeys. "What do you mean, what you are? You're a teenage girl."

"Clearly not," returns Lydia, cutting her food into dainty bites. "Teenage girls do not have the ability to create mystical bonds with the dead and they certainly don't have resurrection powers. Furthermore, teenage girls have two reactions to the bite of a werewolf, they become one or they die. Here I sit, but I retain only one monthly problem, and it doesn't come with fur and claws."

"Um, do you have any ideas?"

"You're the one who loves to research," says Lydia, just a shade away from patronizing. "I come up with solutions using your research."

Stiles starts to respond, thinks better of the forkful of egg he put in his mouth and finishes the bite. "I don't know off the top of my head, but yeah sure let's research. Why didn't you just bring this up last night though? Or at Derek's?"

Lydia looks slightly more worried now. "I don't know what I am, Stiles. It might be something that just needs training and control, like a werewolf. But if I'm more along the lines of a kanima, I'd rather only a few people remember me like that."

"You say that you expect to die," says Stiles, frowning at her.

"If I'm a danger to others," she begins.

"Uh, no. You are not a danger, you were used by Peter and no matter how much he may have changed, that's not on you. Jesus, Lyds, no one's dying."

Lydia smiles at him. "Fine. No one's dying. Still, better to have answers than watch the entire pack run around blind. It's not like we wouldn't be the only people researching anyway."

Stiles shoves another bite in his mouth and nods at her. Exactly. All the wrong people in his life try to be martyrs.

"Now enough of that," says Lydia. "I know you've done the assigned reading for the fall semester. Tell me how fast you think we can convince our teacher to speed through Heart of Darkness."

Stiles is just finishing up his breakfast, sopping up the remaining egg yolks with the crusts of his bread when Lydia kicks him under the table. "Ow! What the fu…?"

His voice trails away as she nods slightly towards the door. A trio stand in the doorway, one woman telling Esther how many are in their party, the other woman and a man staring directly at Stiles and Lydia. The man carries himself elegantly, yet tightly wound like a violin. Both women have a sort of lioness grace, though the one not talking to the waitress giggles when the man sniffs the air and inclines his head towards their table.

The giggler leans over to the waitress, asking something that neither Stiles nor Lydia have any hope of making out, and a moment later menus are being placed on the table next to them.

"Mr. Stilinski and Miss Martin, yes?" asks the man. "I'm…"

"Deucalion," says Lydia briskly, cutting him off.

The woman that Stiles is pretty sure is Kali frowns, but the one he suspects to be Jennifer Blake has a twinkle in her eye. Well, no wolf likes an easy hunt and Stiles hasn't met many emissaries who don't love a challenge as well.

"You've heard of me," says Deucalion. It's not really a question.

"Mmm," replies Lydia noncommittally. "You're not exactly subtle."

Stiles stifles a laugh. "Nor appropriate."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Coming to us? The humans? Hardly proper protocol," notes Stiles.

"As if you know anything about how we work," snaps Kali, her claws flashing out, then back in again as Jennifer puts a hand on her arm.

Stiles lets Lydia handle this one. He knows the rules and rituals as much as her, but she's taken the time to care about it more, and she's used such knowledge to bring Peter further into the pack, to the point that Derek gave her permission to speak for the pack if the occasion demanded it. Stiles figures this is one of those situations.

"I know how the moon sings in your blood every night, and the way it reaches a crescendo at its peak," answers Lydia. "There's a melody in my own these days. I know that it is the wolf, not the human, that demands such respect between packs, for the wolf knows something of elegance long since lost to those who live among stone and steel. I know the bonds of a pack, the way even the most tinuous of threads can become unbreakable sinuous strength when threatened. I may be human, but I am also pack." Lydia voice grows steely, her temper flaring slightly, though Stiles is the only one who can tell just how furious she is. "Protocol demands that you request an audience with our alpha via the pack negotiator, or if unavailable the pack second. It is a serious affront to approach human members, particularly the way you have chosen to do so."

Deucalion looks positively intrigued, while Jennifer leans in her seat and stage whispers "Told you" at Kali.

"If I'd seen him, I certainly would have gone to your negotiator," states Deucalion. There's still a whisper of condescension in his tone, he underestimates them and Stiles takes not of that. "Peter Hale, right? He's…"

"Right here," comes a voice above them. Peter leers down at the alpha pack. "Now, why don't we have that talk?"


	3. Chapter 3

Kali would probably be offended by the idea, but Stiles is fairly certain she's the only one he really understands of the alpha pack so far. She's straight forward, brutal really, but honest, and he gets that. Kali doesn't like the hodgepodge nature of their pack and she doesn't think they understand the life of a wolf, despite Lydia's earlier words.

Jennifer is hard to read. She seems overly amused by everything, but she doesn't miss a beat and she seems slightly more into what Deucalion is saying. That fact alone makes Stiles think she cares more about Kali's opinion.

Deucalion postures just as much as Peter, but there's something deadly there too. If anything, he reminds Stiles of Lydia, and the way she'll play the high school game but destroy you if you cross her.

There's definitely another alpha outside, standing guard in the parking lot, but other than cataloguing his face, Stiles figures if he's not important enough for this meeting, he's not important enough to care about any other time.

He pays attention, but doesn't join the conversation. For all that Peter, Lydia, and Derek are working things out between them, Peter holds the position of pack negotiator and no matter what position Stiles ultimately takes in the pack, he has to know when to defer. In addition, Peter welcomed Lydia into the negotiations from the moment he sat down, and she's more than holding her own.

It takes another hour for these early deliberations to finish, and then Stiles is leading the way to the car so they can update Derek.

Stiles leads the way up to Derek's apartment, deliberately making enough noise that Derek will see there are others with him.

"What happened?" demands Derek, running his hands over Stiles' arms in visible concern. He looks to Lydia and Peter too, who aren't subtle as they roll their eyes at each other.

"Deucalion came to the diner," answers Stiles.

Derek snarls.

"Don't worry, dear nephew," says Peter, pushing past to open the apartment door. "Lydia took control until I could get there."

"And?"

Stiles moves to get a glass of water while Derek paces and answers before Peter can continue to antagonize everyone in the room. "We worked out the first challenge. It won't be easy, especially with our pack."

Derek's eyebrows raise in question and Stiles is again jealous of said ability.

"They want a formal dinner to introduce all members of the two packs and observe our knowledge of pack hierarchy, protocol, and respect. It's like they know us," finishes Stiles, shaking his head.

"Well of course they do," replies Peter. "Why else do you think they appeared at the diner to intimidate the two lowly human members of the pack?"

"Lowly?!" snaps Stiles and Lydia at the same time.

"I've made a point to keep the details of my return from the dead hidden," he explains. "And my sister was always known for having secrets. No doubt Deucalion and Kali suspect devious means, but they are too…"

"Pureblood?" jokes Stiles.

"For lack of a better term, yes. The idea that a human could matter is unthinkable to them. With the exception of hunters. Thus they would have no reason to seek out either Argent. The other parents are tenuously connected for the time being and certainly unable to discern the clear insult the alphas were giving. However, even I had no idea that you, Stiles, came from a hunter line, and since you say your mother's family didn't deal in werewolves, I see no reason Deucalion would."

Stiles sighs and sinks onto the couch next to Derek. "Not that any of this helps our current situation."

Lydia pokes him with her heel. "So we study. We have two days. We'll research and learn from Peter and Derek and practice until we have the protocol down pat. Every member of this pack has their own strengths. We need to enhance those while correcting our flaws. I do not lose, Stiles Stilinski. I'm not starting now."

Derek grins, that sort of rare blend between proud and dangerous he sometimes gets. Stiles thinks privately that Lydia and Derek have the same look. Maybe there is hope.

"So we should call the pack?" he asks. "Make a plan?"

"Lydia and Peter can do that," says Derek. "You and I are going to the preserve to meet Allison and Chris."

"For?"

"Hunter training."

"I'm not sure I want to be a hunter again," Stiles says in reminder. "Deaton was going to train me as an emissary anyway."

"You can't do both?" questions Lydia.

Stiles shrugs. "It's more about whether I want to."

Derek's grabbing his keys as they speak and his jacket. "I think it would still be good for you to brush up on your skills. Especially with the alpha pack in town."

"I really think I'll be okay," protests Stiles as he follows Derek out the door.

Derek turns and catches Stiles' arm, stopping him as he walks. Stiles looks up at him, surprised, as Derek cups Stiles' face in his hands. "Humor me? Please? I've only seen that brief display at target practice. I just want to know that you'll be safe when I'm not around."

Stiles wisely bites his tongue over the fact that Derek's presence has put him in danger multiple times over the last year. He knows it's not Derek's fault anyway, and even a joke along those lines would cause Derek to start blaming himself. And Stiles isn't interested in Derek pulling a martyr routine and pushing him away. "Okay," he says. "But I reserve the right to choose my own weapons after today."

Chris has a full arsenal ready to go in the preserve, even a training mat is set up on level ground for what Stiles assumes is to assess his hand to hand combat abilities. That he's especially looking forward to. Hiding his skills and letting Gerard overpower him took no small amount of talent. The chance to let loose holds a high appeal.

They start with guns though, and Chris' position as a licensed arms dealer means he has an extensive variety to choose from.

Stiles looks over the selection. Allison is there with her bow at her side. He can tell by the look on her face that her feelings are conflicted about the reveal of his talents and Stiles can't really blame her. He got the upbringing she was entitled to, he's trained in more weapons and mythology than she is, and he suspects that Chris is showing too much excitement over his hunter status.

"I prefer not to use small arms," says Stiles immediately, skipping over half the table.

"Can you use them?" asks Chris.

Stiles supposes that is the point of this, whether he can, not whether he will. "Yes," he answers shortly, picking up a Glock 9mm, and firing several successive shots into the appropriate target. They hit in the general bullseye area. "I'm most comfortable with police force weapons," notes Stiles, "for obvious reasons. But handguns don't do much good in a supernatural fight. If you're that close, you need different weapons. At least the kind of hunting my family did," he amends, remembering that a wolfsbane bullet fired at close range would probably do plenty of damage to a werewolf.

Chris nods and moves on. Stiles gives a brief repeat demonstration of his skill with a couple sniper rifles-those are the type of gun he prefers anyway-and dismisses the use of crossbows or other archer weapons altogether. "I never learned archery," he says. He can see Derek's eyebrow arch at the clear tell in his heartbeat, but his face doesn't betray the lie.

Stiles does notice Allison visibly relax after that however, and he knows he made the right decision to leave archery to her.

It's the knife work that really gets Stiles excited. He spins a couple blades in his hands, knowing there's a dangerous grin on his lips.

"You seem comfortable with those," observes Allison.

Stiles nods, flicks a blade into a nearby tree with perfect precision. "Blades are one of the best tools against demons. You can spell a dagger with Latin, Gaelic, Mandarin, really any language necessary for the particular demon. The right metal can cause damage enough on it's own, but most can be bonded with other materials as well." He picks up a series of small blades and throws them in quick succession at a target. "For example, a dagger made with iron can be bonded with pure salt, making it useful in fighting demons with fae blood."

Derek is listening and retrieving knives as Stiles speaks, his attention clearly focused, though he doesn't join in the conversation, leaving it instead to Stiles and the Argents.

"You've hunted the fae?" questions Chris.

Stiles shakes his head vigorously. "You don't hunt the fae. Period. But some of the older demons have fae bloodlines, from the days when they could roam the earth freely, and so iron is useful."

"Have you met many other hunter families?" Allison plays with her own set of knives, practicing along with Stiles.

"A few. Most hunters tend to be well known names among each other and their enemies, but lesser known elsewhere." He debates picking up a set of throwing stars before remembering that Allison prefers the weapon and moves on. "Or like witch hunters tend to keep a pretty low profile."

Allison pauses in her practice. "But witch hunts are some of the most famous and well-documented hunts in history."

"Yeah, but those weren't carried out by hunters and they didn't kill real witches. It takes serious skill, fearlessness, and no small amount of recklessness to go after a witch. The good ones aren't worth making an enemy of and the truly evil ones have a lot of power. Public witch hunts are just examples of ignorance and prejudice." Stiles sets the last of the knives down and moves to the training mat, practicing basic fighting stances to limber up. He plans to ask Chris to fight, so Allison can study his moves and be at less of a disadvantage. Derek he knows would go to easy on him. "Besides, witch hunters are always witches themselves. They have a we take care of our own kind of mentality."

"What about other demon hunters?" asks Chris. "I'd like to know more about fighting demons."

"Like the Winchesters?" says Stiles, twisting his body into a backflip and landing in a defensive crouch. He motions a request for Chris to join him.

Chris passes his guns to Allison and faces Stiles. "Very funny. We all know the Winchesters aren't real." He moves into a traditional muay thai stance, then goes on the attack.

Stiles responds smoothly, pushing Chris back into a starting position. "The Winchesters are the best cautionary hunting tale I know. That show is their cover story. No one believes the family is real, and they're able to fight greater battles than most of us will ever face." He moves offensively now, fighting against Chris.

"But believe me when I say that they wouldn't wish their lives on anyone and no one should strive to be them."

"The stories about them say they've been to hell," scoffs Allison from the sidelines.

"Peter came back from the dead," returns Stiles, "and he only used some wolfsbane and a teenage girl to do it. The Winchesters run in circles with angels and devils. I wouldn't put anything past them."

Chris nearly catches him off guard, so Stiles focuses on the fight until he's clearly won. Chris is a good fighter but Stiles can tell that Chris was trained in other disciplines, as he adapted to Stiles' fighting style rather than matching it.

"Don't borrow enemies," he cautions. "We have werewolves to deal with. I'd rather not invite demons into the mix."

That seems enough to end the conversation. The rest of the afternoon is spent practicing different fighting techniques. Even Derek joins in at one point, though Stiles was right that he would go easy on him. Once Chris and Derek seem satisfied, they separate to go home and reconvene at the evening pack meeting, where everyone will be updated on the alphas' challenge.


	4. Chapter 4

"I have the feeling this is going to be a disaster," mutters Stiles as his dad parks the car in front of the McCalls. Their formal dining room is the pack's practice spot for the alpha pack dinner.

"Probably," replies John, far too cheerfully in Stiles' opinion. "But we can try to minimize the fall out and maybe this will clarify which pack areas of improvement need to take priority."

"How did you get so smart?"

"Curly fries."  
Stiles rolls his eyes and John makes a face at him. He's still not getting curly fries.

When they get inside, everyone is essentially in the living room or hallway and the fidgeting and discomfort is obvious. "So how do we do this?" asks Allison.

Peter immediately launches into a lecture on proper protocol. John steps around Boyd and Isaac to show Derek a piece of paper. Stiles watches as Derek reads it over with a bit of surprise, then looks at JOhn and nods. He steps forward and takes command of the room. "Thank you, Peter. We're going to do this first round a little differently though. I will be sitting at the head of the table. I want each of you to come in where you think your standing in the pack is."

Peter noticeably grimaces.

Chris raises a tentative hand. "Standing or position?"

"Standing," clarifies Derek.

"You wanna clarify that for the rest of us?" asks Stiles.

Derek nods. "Position is your title. Pack enforcer, second, negotiator, etc. Those don't change. Standing is how I see you and is flexible depending on the current state of the pack."

"Are you sure that's the best idea?" asks Scott. Stiles can't help but wonder the same thing.

"It will be messy. But John thinks and I agree that it will also give us a way to see and work through some of our biggest issues. We aren't great at talking around here and we need to bring some of these things out in the open if we're going to fix them. But for now we don't have much time so let's begin." He nods at the room and goes to sit at the dining table.

Peter and Scott immediately follow, both elbowing at each other to go through the door. Stiles rolls his eyes at Lydia. He's fairly certain that Peter is being deliberately obtuse and that Scott, genuine puppy that he is, doesn't realize that even though he and Derek are getting along, Derek's still working through his feelings about Scott's betrayal. Boyd and Erica hang back, pushing Isaac in ahead of them. Lydia follows Boyd and Erica.

Jackson turns and holds an arm out to Stiles.

"What?"

Jackson frowns. "I'm going to escort you."

"Why?"  
"Because I may not be Lydia level genius but I still have the fourth highest gpa in our class. Trust me. I have a feeling about this."

"Okay," agrees Stiles, and they enter.

Chris then Allison come after the primary pack members, then Melissa McCall is ushered in by Sheriff Stilinski, though Stiles bets that's not for protocol reasons but simply his dad being a gentleman.

Once inside, Derek looks at his pack. "Now tell me why you came in the way you did. Because with the exception of Lydia, partly Jackson, and partly Scott, you're all wrong."

Peter scoffs. "I think you forgot to note that I was correct. I am pack negotiator. Not to mention your family."

Derek glares at him. "Yes, and I'd have another family member left if you hadn't killed Laura. Then there's the using Lydia to bring yourself back from the dead, tormenting Stiles, biting and harassing Scott, I could go on. You're pack negotiator because you know the nuances of pack politics. Don't mistake that for trust."

Peter looks decidedly put out about that but he subsides. Derek continues down the line. Scott felt that he and Derek were on good enough terms that his status as second would keep him high ranking. Boyd and Erica felt that as Derek's betas, they should follow Scott and Peter, but figured Isaac had better standing. Lydia's explanation was that she might be human or something, but she's still pack, and she deserved to come in before the parents or hunter family member. The hunter and parental units just went with a best guess.

"Lydia is correct that she is the last of the core pack to come in," begins Derek, "but Allison should come in at the same time."

"I should?"

"Yes. You're an allied hunter of the Hale pack, but you're also a member of this pack, Allison. I want the alphas to know this. Similarly, Boyd, Erica, and Isaac, you three should enter together as you are all equal both in status and in my eyes." At the sight of tears in Erica's eyes and Boyd trying to look more stoic than usual, Derek walks over and pulls both teens into a tight hug. "You were scared," he says softly. "I get that. I don't fault you for lashing out at me. And at the end of the day, you still stayed. That holds the most merit with me."

According to Derek, the parents will bring up the end, but should come in right behind each other in the order of John, Melissa, Chris, rather than next to each other like his betas.

"Why was Jackson partly right?" asks Scott once Jackson and Stiles are the only two left who need to explain.

Jackson leans in and whispers something too low for anyone but Derek to catch in Stiles' ear. Stiles' eyes widen and he pulls back to look at Jackson. "Seriously?!" he hisses.

"Sorry," returns Jackson.

"Stiles," calls Derek from where he's leaning against the table. "Jackson's right. But we can go a different way."

Stiles sighs. "Nah. We knew this would happen. And I'd rather say something here than take the chance of Deucalion or Kali using it to cause division." He's not exactly thrilled, but it is what it is.

Derek nods at Jackson to continue.

"I don't know where I belong," begins Jackson, "but I know that because of Stiles' relationship with Derek, he is to be escorted by another member of the pack. It shows that the member is not only valued by the Alpha, but by the betas as well."

"Relationship?!" chorus several voice at once.

Stiles exchanges another series of looks with Derek and then Derek addresses the pack. "Yes, Stiles and I are in a relationship. It's very early stages, we're both trying to work through things slowly, but consider us together."

"I can't believe you wouldn't trust us enough to just tell us that," mutters Isaac.

"You're dating Derek?!" snaps Scott at Stiles. "We tell each other everything and you kept that a secret."

"Why would anyone tell you anything?!" yells Erica. "You'd just go find an Argent to blab too and betray us all."

"I'm not my grandfather!" returns Allison.

"Says the girl who shot me full of arrows," mutters Boyd.

Allison looks appropriately chastened but still angry and she keeps arguing with Erica and Scott's yelling at her and Stiles in turn while Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson keep going in Stiles' and Erica's defense. The shouting match continue for a couple more minutes until the sound of a large crack reaches their ears.

Everyone turns to see Melissa glaring, her hands in fists on the tabletop. "Enough! Now I understand that you all have things you're upset about. We will deal with them calmly and as adults. It's time you all started practicing adulthood anyway." She looks directly at Derek. "I understand the concept of your idea. We did that. Now tell everyone the right order. Then you are all going to go outside and fight off some of this excess anger. I am going to have a nice calming drink with John and Chris, then we will order pizzas to be delivered and we will all sit down and work through these issues. Understood?"

"Melissa," begins Derek.

"Understood." She says more firmly, not as a question this time. Derek nods. "Got it."

"Good then."

Everyone else stays quiet as Derek explains the proper order, then they file outside. It will go Derek, Scott as pack second and the wolf Derek still feels a close connection to, even if it isn't reciprocated. Stiles is then escorted by Jackson, who as first beta is given a higher position. Rather than the usual cocky Jackson reaction, he gives a hint of a smile, like he's pleased and touched. The rest of the betas are to follow, Allison and Lydia next, then Peter rounding out the core pack. Peter grumbles a little about not being appropriately valued but another glare from Melissa keeps him quiet.

"Think we'll live through this?" asks Melissa as she pours a generous glass of whiskey for each of the adults. Minus Peter who went out with the pack.

"If they can figure out how to trust each other absolutely," says John. "And that in itself is the problem."

Chris downs his drink in one steady swallow. "If they can pretend to trust each other and set aside their problems while the alphas are here, we may at least get through the next couple months. Then they can all figure out long-term solutions."

Melissa and John ponder that. "We're gonna need more whiskey."

The pack that shuffles in forty-five minutes later is distinctively subdued, and there are a few healing bruises and traces of dirt and leaves still in Erica and Allison's hair, but they enter calmly in the correct order and politely thank Melissa for ordering pizza and setting up the table for dinner.

Derek and Peter take the lead through dinner, explaining details about what they might expect from the alphas, what sort of things are better to study. As bitten wolves or humans, and all new to pack standards, they're allowed some leeway, but they need to be showing an effort. Stiles and Lydia both chime in to answer questions from time to time. Lydia has a stellar memory so she fills in blanks when Derek or Peter can't remember the exact wording from the werewolf protocol files on Peter's computer. Stiles focuses more on his observations of the trio that ambushed them at breakfast, the way Kali seems more brutal and less political, how Deucalion seems to relish causing problems just to see the fallout while Jennifer seems equally likely to stir up trouble, but that she gave Stiles the impression that she pays close attention to reactions and resolutions.

Then it's time to work through the actual issues.

Hardly anyone trusts Scott, though that's been improving. Still, even Stiles admits that the fact that Scott would work with Gerard instead of even asking anyone else to keep his mom safe doesn't sit well. There's the lingering concern that if a situation came up, Scott would side with hunters over his pack.

Boyd even comments that the only reason he's beginning to trust Scott again is that Allison seems genuinely remorseful and he's more willing to trust that as long as she's on their side, so is Scott.

That in turn brings up Erica's issues, namely that she doesn't trust Allison and is somewhat angry at Boyd for being willing to try.

Allison for her part is understanding and apologetic, but she's pissed that they keep blaming her for Gerard and Kate's actions. Let her take responsibility for her wrongs, she insists and leave the evils of her dead family members in their graves. When Derek agrees with her, Erica (and Isaac who was staunchly on Erica's side) agree to work on that, and it seems a truce is reached.

Not everything is solved so easily, but eventually all their issues are on the table. From there, they work on not reacting to incendiary statements.

They agree they're ready when John deliberately makes a comment about Gerard in a derogatory way, just like the alphas might and while Chris looks upset, Allison calmly deflects the question and then turns to Erica and ask if she has recommendations for a good manicurist.

Scott pulls Stiles aside as the others leave, tugging him towards the back bedrooms. If the other werewolves tried they could hear them, but the gesture indicates a desire for privacy.

"What's up, bro?" asks Stiles. He suspects he knows what Scott wants to talk about.

"So you and Derek…" begins Scott and 'bingo' thinks Stiles.

"Me and Derek," he answers. He doesn't like Scott's tone.

Scott hesitates like he isn't quite sure how to approach the subject. "Be careful, okay. I just want to make sure that you're sure about this. Derek's…"

"Derek's kind?" suggest Stiles, a small amount of bitterness and anger in his voice. "Loyal? Dependable? Cares about me? Looks out for me while letting me take care of myself? Knows how I like my coffee?"

Scott gapes at him. "Duh. I meant that Derek's vulnerable. And I know I had a lot to do with that and I'm still sorry I didn't trust him with Gerard, but he doesn't deserve to get hurt either."

That Stiles definitely was not expecting. "I'm not going to hurt Derek," he says slowly.

Scott shuffles his feet and talks low. "I'm not saying you'll mean to. But dude, you've been hung up on Lydia for a really long time. And Derek seems like the type to commit as hardcore as you do. I just…"

"I'm all in," says Stiles, cutting Scott off.

"You're sure?" asks Scott, brightening a little.

Stiles nods. "Positive. I'm not saying we're at a point of talking about it yet, but this isn't a fling for me, and I would never treat Derek so callously even if a short-term relationship was all I wanted anyway. I promise, both our hearts are safe."

Scott beams at him. "Awesome. So do you still pop a boner whenever he flashes his alpha eyes?" He says the last part extra loud.

Stiles punches Scott's arm before wrapping him in a headlock as they head back to the entryway. "You're evil, and I will be shopping for a new best friend," he threatens through his laughter.

The next day as Peter and Lydia take charge of walking the pack through more protocols and policies, Derek and Stiles head out to the preserve to meet with Marin Morell. "And you're sure you want Morell over Deaton?" questions Derek as they park the car. Morell's car is in the parking lot of the small outlook, but she's near the edge of the viewpoint.

"Yeah. I'd like to believe Deaton is on our side, but I only ever really feel like he's on Scott's side. For all his talk about promises to your mom, he's done a shitty job of protecting your family." Stiles pulls his jacket on over his flannel and reaches down to grab the few magical supplies that he owns from the floorboard. "I think Morell plays the winning side, but that she'll teach me enough to fight my own battles."

"You'll be cautious though?"

"Always," promises Stiles. They exit and walk over to join her. "Ms. Morell?" begins Stiles.

"Please, call me Marin."

"Marin," corrects Stiles. "Thanks for agreeing to teach me."

"You're quite welcome. Now, tell me Stiles, do you come to me because you want to learn the ways of a druid or because you simply don't trust my brother to teach you to be an emissary?" There's a hint of a devilish twinkle in her eyes, like she knows the answer, but her voice is as calm as ever.

"I thought emissaries and druids were the same."

"Not quite. Many of the spells and methods to manipulate the earth's magic are the same, but a druid is unaffiliated with a pack. As a druid, I'm free to move about at my leisure, without being bound to the will of an alpha. However, I cannot fully tap into the earth's magic. I'm limited to natural magic that isn't tied to supernatural creatures." Marin moves a hand through the air as she speaks, like she's conducting a symphony, and the trees sway and the wind blows gently as her movements continue. "An emissary must hope for a good and fair alpha, and their magic can be called upon to be used in ways they don't always agree with. But emissaries can deal in far greater magic, with a good deal more power. Were Talia still with us, my brother Deaton wouldn't be able to be so ambiguous when dealing with you, Derek."

"Brother?" asks Stiles.

"Brother in our druidic order. Emissary or druid, we all belong to a specific order." She takes Stiles' hand in hers and moves it through the same conducting pattern she's been repeating. "Focus on the melody my hands create. As they move, so do the trees."

Stiles focuses. He tends to be more practical, less sensitive to feeling out possibilities than a trial and error method, but he wants to learn. Slowly he can begin to sense the same, hearing a song in the air, one that the forest knows and wants to teach him. "Oh!" he exclaims.

Marin smiles. "Very good. Now see if you can get the trees to sing a specific tune. Keep the underlying message simple. More of a concept than any specific directive."

It takes about twenty minutes, but when Stiles tries pushing his own feelings of home into the woods, rather than telling the trees what he wants, the tune changes to one of comfort and family, a sense of contentment. "That's incredible," breathes Stiles.

"Indeed. That's the work of a druid. A small concept in general, but still useful. Derek, did you hear it?"

Derek nods. "It sounded like home."

"That was it!" beams Stiles.

"You won't be able to master this yet," says Marin, "but for the rest of the week I want you to work on two things. First, getting the trees to sing for you. Then try to get them to send a message just to Derek, one that only he can hear."

"I can do that?"

"An emissary can. You may not have chosen a path yet, but you have a spark and are a member of a pack. This small bit of magic should be doable without choosing a loyalty." Marin waves a hand and the woods fall still. "An emissary would be able to send a message to his pack using nature, without being overheard by others. Your homework so to speak, is to figure out how. And know that there isn't just one way. Find the method that works for you."

Stiles thanks her, as does Derek, and after a moment more of polite conversation, they part ways to return to the pack and prepare for the alphas.


End file.
